by Diane Kelly
Superhero underwear? “Did you have gym with that kid or something?”
“Not exactly.”
It hit me. “That kid was you?”
He offered a sheepish grin. “Guess I got some wires crossed or something. But they still let me keep my first-place ribbon.”
As we talked, Trey and I discovered we had a surprising number of things in common despite the obvious disparities in our career paths and lifestyles. We both liked goofy, mindless movies, the more hopelessly ridiculous the better. We both avoided social media. It’s not that we didn’t care about the world around us, it’s just that we’d already formed our beliefs and felt no need to listen to opinionated people complain incessantly about the current state of affairs. Our online entertainment go-to was funny cat and dog videos on YouTube. And we both loved the capellini Roma at Marangelli’s, a popular Italian restaurant in downtown Dallas.
Trey pushed the plate of cheesecake toward me so I could have the last bite. “I want to see you again tomorrow.”
Another date? So soon? Didn’t that break all the rules of dating? But, what the heck. The rules don’t apply to mere flings anyway, right? “Okay.”
Knowing our relationship couldn’t go anywhere took the pressure off, allowing me to relax and simply have a good time, exactly what I needed at this point in my life. Heck, why not pack in as much fun as I could before Trey returned to California? It’s not like I’d do something foolish and fall helplessly in love with the guy.
***
We debated the relative merits of Wonder Woman versus Flash Gordon as we drove back into Jacksburg, past the baseball fields with their sagging wooden bleachers, past the DQHQ where Bernie could be seen through the glass sitting at the counter gluing another model, past the brightly-lit Laundromat where a woman wearing a pink bathrobe and slippers stood in front of an open dryer folding blue bath towels and placing them in a white plastic laundry basket. Laundry on a Friday night? Guess I wasn’t the most pathetic woman in Jacksburg after all.
Trey turned down the road to my house, pulled into the driveway, and parked beside Dad’s battered Cherokee, eyeing the I GRIND STUMPS logo. His mouth spread in a naughty grin. “Please tell me that’s your SUV.”
“Nope. Sorry to disappoint you. And your stump.”
The porch light was on, but otherwise the house was dark. Dad had apparently gone to bed already, his belly full of the Chuck Wagon’s chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes. Taking my hand in his, Trey walked me to the front porch. The moths flitted around the bright bulb while aimless June bugs thudded against the window glass and dropped, stunned, to the porch.
We stopped at the door and I looked up at Trey. “Thanks. I had a good time.”
“Good? Is that all? Because I had a great time.” He entwined his fingers in mine and stepped toward me.
My heart screamed “weee!” inside my chest as his gaze went to my lips. No doubt about it, he was going to kiss me again.
He looked up at the porch light blazing above us. Dropping my hands, he opened the front door and stuck his arm inside, feeling around for the light switch. When he found it, he flipped off the light, the darkness now giving us privacy. “That’s better.”
He softly closed the door and stepped back over to me. Easing a hand around the back of my neck, he gently pulled me to him, our lips touching softly. Yum. He stepped closer to me, closing the space between us, his chest pressed to mine.
When he slipped his warm tongue into my mouth it was all I could do to remain standing. After a few luscious seconds, he took his mouth from mine. His hand grasped my braid behind me and pulled downward on it until my head tilted back, exposing my throat, giving his mouth access to my bare neck. His actions were gentle enough not to offend, but forceful enough to let me know he wanted me just as bad as I wanted him.
He encircled my waist with his other arm, easing kisses under my chin, under my ear, down the slope to where my shoulder began. Pretty hot for a first date. But then again, I hadn’t had a first date in a dozen years, not since my first date with Chet. Very likely things had changed since then. Besides, it wasn’t like we were naïve college kids. We were adults who’d been around the block a few times, who knew what we wanted, whom we wanted.
And right now, I wanted Trey.
Trey’s kisses got me so hot and bothered I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam seep out of the zipper of my jeans. But with my father sleeping in his bedroom just twenty feet away, it wasn’t like things could go anywhere at that moment. Finally, and with great reluctance, I pushed him away. “Good night, Trey.”
He threw his head back and groaned. Clearly he’d become hot and bothered, too. He pulled me to him one last time for a brief closer kiss.
I flipped the porch light back on as I shut the front door behind me. Standing in the front hallway, I could hear my heart beat so loud in the silent house I was sure it would wake Dad and Bluebonnet.
For the first time in days, I fell asleep thinking of something other than the mysterious man who drove the Ninja ZX-14. Instead, I thought about Trey. He was proving to be an unexpectedly effective distraction. Being with him tonight had made my loneliness, my boredom, my lingering guilt all seem to fade away.
The next few weeks could be really fun, just as long as Fate didn’t find out about him. If she did, that skank would find a way to ruin things for me, as usual. I issued warnings to motorists all day long, but tonight I issued one to myself. Be careful, Marnie. You’re going down a dangerous road.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LICENSE AND REGISTRATION, PLEASE
On Saturday, Trey and I drove two hours west to a state park in Mineral Wells. The park encompassed not only a sizeable lake, but also a rocky bluff known as Penitentiary Hollow, a popular rock climbing destination.
Trey looked sporty and daring decked out in his climbing gear, his tools in a black vinyl pouch around his waist. The guy was sharp, but he definitely had a spirited side, too. He fitted me in a nylon harness, having to adjust the upper straps to accommodate my generous proportions. He gave the straps a tug to test them, then used the strap to pull me to him for a kiss.
“That was sneaky,” I said when he released me.
“You learned your lesson, then,” he said. “You’ve got to stay on your toes.”
Connected by ropes, we inched our way up the face of what Trey considered a relatively shallow canyon but what to me might as well have been Mount Everest. But I’d made it through the police academy, right? Even if that was nine years and twenty pounds ago. Besides, Wonder Woman wouldn’t balk at a challenge and neither would I.
The air was cool, an early glimpse of the fall that waited around the corner, but the rock face was warm, having absorbed the sun’s heat. An occasional breeze blew through the canyon, flowing across our backs, carrying with it the faint scents of exposed earth and cedar. A lone buzzard circled overhead, probably hoping we’d plunge to our deaths and provide him a fresh and easy lunch.
After half an hour clinging to the side of the cliff, sweating, grunting, and maneuvering, painstakingly working our way up the forty feet or so of vertical face, we reached the top. Trey had instructed me along the way, providing pointers. He probably could have made it to the top in mere minutes if I hadn’t been slowing him down, but he was nice enough not to say so.
I scrambled over the edge and stood on the rim next to him, victorious fists in the air. He held up both palms for a two-handed high five. I obliged, my shout of “I did it!” echoing off the opposing cliff wall. He grabbed me in a bear hug, smiling down at me.
He looked tough and rugged, a smudge of dirt across his forehead, a bit of leaf in his hair. The guy challenged me, mentally and physically, showing me just how strong and capable I could be, making me feel alive again. And, in return, he seemed intrigued by my ready willingness to take on challenges. My heart exploded in a burst of colorful confetti. I like this guy. I mean REALLY like this guy. I was pretty sure he really liked me, too.
I gave him a loud, appreciative smooch. “So, where’s the trail back to the bottom?”
Trey stepped to the edge of the ravine and pointed down. “That way.”
I take back everything I just said about challenges. Going up was one thing, but looking over the edge at the sheer drop filled me with sheer terror. I forced my lungs to breathe and my lips to smile. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Trey gave me another quick lesson, then we rappelled back down into the gulch.
“Woo hoo!” The brief sense of freefalling was an absolute rush. I could see why Trey was hooked on this sport.
We repeated the process, moving on to climb other parts of the cliff. By the end of the day, every muscle in my body ached and every joint throbbed, but it was worth each and every spasm to enjoy the luscious kisses Trey left me with that evening.
***
Trey and I Facetimed for two full hours Sunday evening, engaging in idle chatter, the kind of conversation you have when you have nothing much to say but simply want to spend time with the person on the other end of the line. I fell asleep that night with only Trey on my mind.
With the light of Monday morning, though, things were more clear. Trey is a temporary diversion only, I reminded myself, nobody I should let myself get too worked up about. In a matter of weeks he’d be long gone, nothing more than a pleasant memory. No sense putting all my eggs in one basket, especially if that basket would soon be catching a 747 back to California.
I drove to headquarters and checked in with Selena, happy to find out that Lucas Glick had managed to go the entire weekend without causing trouble. Maybe the guy had thought about what I’d said and was trying to get his act together. I hoped so.
With the roads now dry, the Ninja would likely be out again. If I saw the bike today, I’d pull the rider over even if he hadn’t committed a violation. I could always make up some bullshit about a similar bike having been reported stolen or claim to be performing a routine insurance check.
I parked my motorcycle behind the welcome sign at a quarter after eight and pulled out my phone. First things first. Can’t wait for a hot biker without proper music. I tuned up some music appropriate for the occasion, Golden Earring’s “Radar Love.”
Before I could plug in the radar gun, a red blur blasted past me, tires squealing as the open convertible turned onto Main, the blond hair of the driver trailing in the wind.
Tiffany Tindall, at it again. That spoiled brat seemed to think the laws didn’t apply to her. Time to give the girl a reality check. Today she’d be getting a ticket.
I turned on my lights and took off after her. Luckily for me, Tiffany was stuck at the traffic light at Main and McDougal.
I pulled up behind her. She had her rearview mirror turned toward the driver’s seat and was looking into it, applying a coat of magenta lipstick that perfectly matched her silky long-sleeved blouse. She didn’t notice the flashing lights behind her. What a self-absorbed twit.
At point-blank range, the sound of the siren would just about burst your eardrums. Luckily for me, my helmet served as a noise barrier. Sure, I could’ve just called out to Tiffany. After all, she was only ten feet in front of me with the top down on her car. But what fun would that be? I flipped on the siren. Heh-heh.
WOO-WOO-WOO!
Tiffany’s mouth gaped in an all-out shriek and her arms reflexively flung outward. The tube of lipstick flew out of her hand and into the street, promptly pulverized by the knobby wheels of a flatbed truck heading in the opposite direction. Tiffany covered her diamond-studded ears with her hands and whipped her head around, skewering me a death glare.
I jerked my thumb to the right, directing her to pull over, and turned off the siren. She floored the gas pedal and roared into the parking lot of the Dollar Depot, her tires squealing as she slammed on her brakes.
After parking my bike, I stepped up next to her. She’d stopped the car, but left her engine running. “Turn off your engine and show me your license and registration.”
She made no move to follow any of my instructions. “What are you pulling me over for? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You were speeding.”
“Prove it. Show me the readout on your radar.”
I hadn’t used the gun, but Miss Fancy-britches didn’t need to know that. “Cleared it already. Now turn off your car and show me your license and registration.”
“No radar readout?” She smirked and gunned her engine as if to emphasize her words. “Our attorneys will have a field day with that.”
Threatening me with lawyers? Not a smart thing to do. “Turn off your car and give me your license and registration. I’m not going to ask you again, Miss Tindall.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes but turned the engine off. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“You mean like hunt down an armed robber? Or a rapist? Or a serial killer?”
“Exactly.”
I shook my head. “Nope. You’re by far the most dangerous person we’ve got here in—” I bent down and looked into her eyes— “Bumfuck.”
Tiffany’s eyes blazed, but she seemed to sense I had the upper hand, at least for the moment. She reached over to open her glove box, taking her sweet time rifling through the papers inside. She handed me her registration, followed by a dog-eared Nordstrom’s ad. “Here you go. You might want to check out the sale in the plus-size department.”
The bitch was trying to goad me into doing something impulsive and stupid. It wasn’t going to work. I may be a bit thick around the middle, but I’m also thick-skinned. Had to be to survive as a cop. Besides, I’d been called worse. Femi-Nazi. Pussy. Even the C word a couple of times. I’d discovered that a healthy dose of pepper spray put a quick end to potty mouth. Still, I could give as good as I could take. “As long as we’re on the subject of shopping, you might want to pick up some Clorox at the Piggly Wiggly.” I gestured at her mouth. “A little bleach should take care of that mustache problem.”
Tiffany’s eyes squeezed into an eat-shit-and-die glower. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got places to be.” She grabbed her black Prada bag off the passenger seat and plopped it onto her lap. She reached inside, yanked out her coordinated wallet and flung it open, sending a cascade of credit cards onto her lap, the passenger seat, and the floorboards.
“Dammit!” Tiffany frantically grabbed at the cards, scooping them into her open purse. She must’ve had at least ten cards, including several Visas, a couple of MasterCards, and even a Discover. What the heck does one woman need with so many credit cards? Then again, coming from a moneyed family, maybe it was to be expected.
Two sharp beeps sounded from the street to my left. The Ninja drove by, its driver in black ankle boots and yellow and black leathers, his gloved hand up in greeting. My bones felt like they’d turned into noodles and I had to put a hand on the hood of Tiffany’s car to steady myself. He was probably just acknowledging me as a fellow biker, after all a friendly wave was a rule of biker etiquette, but a part of me hoped the greeting was more personal. I watched him drive off down Main, realizing I’d been too shocked to wave back.
“Do you want my license or not?” Tiffany impatiently waved her license between two fingers sporting a fresh French manicure. When I reached for the card, she let the license fall from her fingers to the parking lot at my feet.
“Oops.” She shrugged and flashed an insincere smile. “Clumsy me. Guess you’ll have to pick it up.”
I picked up Tiffany’s license, noting that she looked a bit different in the photo. I held the license up next to her glaring face.
Busted.
She’d obviously had a nose job since the photo was taken. I also noted that the color of eyes indicated on her license was hazel. She must wear colored contacts, too. The only thing real about this girl was that she was a real bitch.